A Midnight Gown
by Isciira
Summary: A short story I wrote about one of my Guild Wars 2 characters, who is a noble by day and criminal by night. This story is really the turning point, where she truly becomes criminal. I had no idea what genres to put it in, so any help in that department would be great. I would love a critique, because this is really the first fictional story I've done.
1. A Midnight Dagger

Aurora smoothed down the rich midnight velvet gown, glancing around the room coolly. The noble parties were quite stiff, but she made an effort to attend as many as she could, as it helped keep her image. She glanced down at her boot, the wink of silver indicating the small dagger she had shoved in as an afterthought. Nothing she did now was ever completely safe, no matter how diligently she worked to keep her two identities separate.

A new figure entered the ballroom, one Aurora had never seen at these parties before. He turned before she could get a look at his face. It was odd she thought, all the nobles in Divinities Reach had some sort of connection, and they all knew each other through at least one person.

She had begun to carry around the portraits of her targets, even with a sharp memory, having too many targets floating around in her head proved to be difficult at times. She pulled them out now; glued into the pages of a novel she was often observed reading at parties such as this. She flipped through the pages; each one had a portrait stuck to it, obscuring the words of the novel.

She happened to glance up, and the strange man had his face turned toward her direction. She almost dropped her book, but quickly shoved it away into the folds of her traveling cloak. She didn't need her book of portraits to recognize this man. He was her top priority target in fact, the only one to have figured out who she was, and to have seen her in both worlds and lived to tell the tale. Thanks to him, her list of targets had expanded, as a select few of the man's friends now knew of her identities. The only thing that held them back from opening their mouths to the rest of Divinities Reach was simply fear of her reputation. She swore, but held herself, waiting for him to leave.

It was going on 3 hours now, and the man was still mingling. Just as Aurora was about to lose her patience and lunge at him then and there, he began giving his farewells. As soon as he left the ballroom, Aurora gathered up her skirts, and drew the dagger from her boot, hiding it behind her back underneath her cloak. She followed him to the courtyard outside, hiding behind a nearby bush. The man glanced around nervously, as if sensing he had a shadow.

He must have caught the gleam of her eye, because he broke into a sprint, running toward the center of the city where he knew there would be the safety of crowds and the Seraph. She let out a string of curses, and began running after him, pulling out her mask from another fold in her cloak, and hastily tied it on as she ran. She continued to chase after him until she tripped up in her long skirts. Once again she swore as she sheared off the skirts of her gown with her dagger, leaving a ragged strip of cloth that barely concealed her undergarments.

As she tossed the skirts aside into someone's bushes, she realized that he had gained too much ground. She spotted a trellis set up on the porch of one of the small homes near her. She scrabbled up it, hoisting herself onto the rooftop, and was able to catch the man's fleeting figure. She took a deep breath, and flung herself to the next rooftop, and then the next and the next, gaining ground back.

When she was finally on top of him, and it was clear he was tiring, she dropped from the roof she was on, curling into a ball at the last minute to disperse some of the shock from the fall. Still, a sharp pain waved through her body, causing her to stagger back for a moment. She was lucky though, for the man was in shock himself that she had managed to catch up to him after she disappeared onto the rooftops. She pushed forward, ignoring the pain that had begun to bloom in her ankle.

Twirling her dagger in her fingers, she advanced on the man, who had begun to back up, but alas, he had hit a wall.

"I swear, I won't tell, I'll sew my mouth closed. I didn't even see you! Please!"

"Oh, really? Well you see, we do have a problem, as you have told a few of your friends. Which by the way, will meet your same fate shortly."

The man's eyes widened, clearly surprised at the extent of her knowledge.

"Surprised? You have _such_ a pleasant voice you know, _especially _when you talk to your dear wife, Clarissa."

He began shaking his head, tears beginning to shine in his eyes.

"Not Clarissa….." he trailed off.

She untied her mask, dropping it to the pavement below. She didn't like to tell lies, and this was her way of allowing each target to know the truth before they died. With a single smooth motion of her wrist, the dagger plunged between the man's ribs, just nicking his heart. His death was quick at least.

She bent to pick up her mask which had fallen behind her, and as she rose a figure loomed up in her vision. Her eyes widened, recognizing instantly her lover, Lord Causius. His mouth was gaped open, eyes flicking from the body in front of him to the bloody dagger in Aurora's hand.

She was frozen, thoughts whirling around in her head. She couldn't let him know this side of her, it would kill him. She had but one option, as she was not yet capable of erasing memories. She glanced down at the already bloodied dagger hanging limply in her hand, and almost as if she were in a trance, flicked the dagger across Lord Causius's neck, leaving a scarlet necklace to adorn his body.

Slowly, she wiped the dagger off on the scraps that remained of her dress, staining the already filthy velvet crimson in places. She replaced her mask, carefully tying a knot at the back of her head, and placed one foot in front of the other, again and again.


	2. A Midnight Ribbon

Aurora sat at her dressing table, looking over the tools laid before her. There was a silver brush and comb, sparkling hair pins, a long white satin ribbon, a dagger, and the mask. She picked up the brush and began to work, smoothing out her long, inky hair. She then took the sparkling hair pins, and assembled her hair into an elaborate knot, keeping it up and of her face. She took the long ribbon and wound it up her arm, knotting it loosely at her wrist. Lastly, she loving picked up the mask.

The mask was a work of superior craftsmanship, white enamel and resins made it strong and durable. There were gold inlays and white diamonds that glittered in the moonlight. The white ribbon used to bind the mask to her face was made of the highest quality satin, and shone beautifully.

Aurora carefully tied this ribbon now, securing the mask to her face, its shadows concealing the gold of her eyes. She tugged on the knot, to make sure it would stay. She then picked up the silver dagger, and shoved it into her boot, so that the handle protruded. She took a last glance at the mirror to make sure she was unrecognizable.

She stalked out into the night, feeling for the familiar handholds on the side of the house. She used them to hoist herself up onto the roof, gaining a clear view of the city. She saw that there were little Seraph patrolling the streets tonight, and that she would be able to take to the streets.

She was about halfway to the Eastern Commons when she started skipping, and whooping at the top of her lungs, reveling in the anonymity of the night. When she finally arrived at the wall separating the Eastern Commons from the rest of the city, she slowed her pace, and become silent once more. She saw a flash of metal, specifically the plate of a Seraph guard. She wasn't taking chances tonight.

She untied the knot of ribbon on her wrist, its length spanning arm to arm. She approached the guard, who gave her a funny look, and slipped the ribbon around his neck, making a grotesque parody of a sating choker. His eyes widened and bulged, his face becoming purple. Finally he passed out, slipping to the pavement below. She replaced the ribbon back to her arm, and checked the guard's pulse, just to make sure he was just knocked out. He would come to in an hour or so, after a bit of mental magic of course.

She continued in the Eastern Commons and spotted what she wanted, a lone passerby slipping into an alleyway. She confronted him.

"You live around these parts here?"

"Yea, bu' who's askin'?"

"Doesn't matter who the hells asking, what I want to know is where I can find someone of these parts gang."

"Look here little missy, I owe you nothin', and I suggest that if you want to keep yer own hide, you stop askin' 'bout them."

"I'll ask you again, where can I find someone of the Sydicate?"

"Little missy, I got to be somewhere. Now bug off." And with that, her stalked away, or at least tried to. The moment he turned his back, there was a knife at his throat, and the sickly sweet burned sugar smell of magic in the air. Purple sparks crackled around Aurora.

"Bitch." He cursed at her. She ignored him.

"We can do this my way, or we can do this my way." She pricked the man's skin with the knife, a tiny starburst of blood welling up. She snapped her fingers, and purple sparks surged once more through her fingertips.

"Alright, just get that thing 'way from me." He motioned at the dagger, but she didn't move it an inch. "Whatever. Look, I saw some of them with crates movin' out of the city. I don't know where they be headin' or what they be up to now. There that's it, all I know."

Satisfied, she removed the dagger from the man's throat, wiping the tip off on his trousers, and shoving it back in her boot. He might not know where the gang went, but she had a pretty good idea.

"You may go now." She said, and her slowly turned, then ran the opposite direction of which he came. She grinned behind her mask, already plotting her next move.


	3. A Midnight Bath

Aurora strode through the streets, making her way to the papermaker in the Ossan Quarter. She patted her pockets, feeling the shape of her mask and dagger. She smiled, the sunlight was brilliant, catching the glint of the multiple jewels she wore today. She was in a strange lull today; strangely calm seeing as she was leaving her family for a fortnight to travel to Lions Arch tomorrow. Her bags were already packed, and she just had some last minute things to take care of.

She arrived at the papermaker, greeting the man she had known for so long. Ever stationary, journal, and book she needed throughout her short life had come from him. He didn't even question when she ordered stationary that didn't have the family crest imprinted on it.

The old man greeted her, and pulled out her order. There was a stack of stationary without the family crest, and one with. There was also the journal she had specially ordered. It contained about a hundred pages of thick cream paper, the pages ends dipped in silver. It was bound in white leather, and there was a rune of destruction painted on the cover in silver. If need be, it would facilitate in destroying it. The spine had a silver bracket punched in the leather, and there was a medium sized dark aquamarine set into it.

She thanked the man, and handed over a small satchel of coins. He counted them out, and pocketed them, smiling at her.

"Thank you Miss Penheart, I appreciate the business."

"No, thank you for being able to get this journal done so quickly on such short notice."

"The least I can do for such a loyal customer."

"Well, thank you anyway, I'll be on my way now Mr. Hayes."

She slid the small journal into a pocket hidden in her dress, and held the stationary under her arm. She stopped at her home quickly to deposit the stationary into her packed trunk, making sure the crestless paper was well hidden under her gowns and outfits. She kept the journal in her pocket however, letting it share space with both the mask and dagger.

She slipped back out of her house, this time heading for the completely respectable bar in the Ossan quarter for some late lunch, as it was around 4:00pm. She also had a glass of wine, and sipped on it slowly while catching up on the latest noble gossip. She stayed for about an hour, and headed to her alleyway, the one the often used to mask herself.

In the alleyway, the tied her mask on, as she knew it would be unwise for a noble to show her face at the bar she was intending to go to. Once the mask was securely knotted, she kept to the shadowy parts of the city as she made her way to the Flaggon. Once there, she sat herself in the corner of the bar, not bothering to actually order anything. No, tonight would be one to listen.

She stayed there for the night catching any bit of conversation she could before she left the city for a while. She sat there until the latest hours of the night, and left when the clock above the bar read midnight. She felt she had heard enough to keep her mind occupied for a while, and that's where her mind was on the walk home. After a long look around her, she removed her mask, placing it back in her pocket.

It wasn't until she crossed into the city gardens did she realize she had a shadow. It was a prickling on the back of her neck, and a shiver down her spine that alerted her. Unfortunately most of the Seraph was off guard, and only a few remained in the center of the city. A well trained assassin could take her out without drawing any guards' attention however, and another shiver past through her at that thought. She glanced around quickly, and quietly climbed up one of the topiaries, flattening herself against the cold stone and greenery. She forced her breathing to calm, but her nerves were on end.

She stayed there for what must have been an hour before she felt she had lost whoever had followed her, and made her way down. She slipped on some stone however, and plummeted to the ground below. She swore viciously, then bent to inspect the damage. Her knees were both bleeding, and there was gravel imbedded in the skin. Her palms were scraped up, and her right palm had a gash ripped though it where a branch must have caught. Her gown was it shreds, but she could really care less about that.

She huffed, and gathered up what remained of her skirts, her chin stuck out to the stars. She marched home, ignoring the stares from the few people still wandering the streets at the ungodly hour. She knew she looked like hell, and her mask was off. There would definitely be some questions in the morning by those helping her travel. Quickly she made her way back home and snapped at the housemaid to draw a bath for her. The maid clambered to her bathroom, while Aurora undressed in her room.

She sank into the bath water, and used the bar or lavender soap to scrub the dirt and gravel from her skin. The bleeding had stopped in all areas but her hand, and she now removed the ragged cloth she had put on temporarily. The cut wasn't nearly as bad as it had seemed earlier, but she still rinsed it with the antiseptic fluid the maid had placed near the bath, presumably after seeing the dried blood on her skin. She took a fresh cloth and wound it tightly around her palm, knotting the two ends together.

After she had dried off and dressed in her nightclothes, she pulled the journal from the pockets of what remained of her gown that had sprawled on the floor. Sitting at her desk, she took up a quill and dipped it into a bottle of ink. Careful not to drip any ink on the white leather, she carefully opened the journal to the first cream page, and began to write.


End file.
